Synthesis, to synthesize. What first must come is the analysis, the biting through, the breakage. I think of this song, Born Whole...
we born whole, we become half... drumming in her soul as she plucks out the lemongrass
It is this journey of emptying and then filling up again. Life.
And with each renewed rush of translucent energy, there is this depth that consumes the trough.
As dirty as one can get, there is always the wave of clean.
And clean to once again become dust.
Each home is the home of the other.
This I know but often forget to see.
Branching out and touching the Other is vulnerability in its mutated allocated-energy form.
And yet each vessel is born a whole tree, branched out beyond. And in the cycles of the sun and moon come the urge to remember how tall one already is. Infinitely tall. A shiny blue-green god.
"We are Big, we are just scared to Be." a wise and distracted sage once told me.
And so we grow into our bigness. We do. If it is in Hate or Love, we grow into our Bigness. Into our architecture, our skyscraping, our energy tendrils that leech into the skies above and below.
I realize now I should perhaps not universalize here, that perhaps not everyone grows to be Big. But I hope for it, I martyr for it, because I see the awe-some potentiality of ALL geometry. Of all mutation mutatin' away like a drunken space cowboy.
I see Bigness in everyone.
What I mean to say is I sense infinity in everyone.
I sense divine architecture.
And as of recent I've been given words for what I've so long sensed, in this desert of my mind. I've found a mental oasis from which to drink voraciously, and where I may find rest until next flight. I've been gifted alchemy, the tonic that alights sprites in my mind and reverberates through my lungs and into the sun that shines in my stomach...the phoenix that sleeps in the closed eye of my navel.
I've been given words.... "Waiting's Gonna Change My World."
And now I can begin the synthesis. For so long I've been disenchanted, in my thought-filled fantasies that did not align with my realities. I've loitered deep underground in the sewers of a mind that was not mine, where the smell of rotting excrement stained my every movement.
And now the phoenix is waking up, sucking up the dark bile to transform all in an alchemical orchestra. Synthesis. I am waking up.
And in my sharing, the Other wakes up too. To their Bigness. Synthesis.
And the phoenix smiles as it twists clouds 'round high in the sky, to then retreat to hide. Always.
To be with the other, and then to be alone. Always. Waves a'crestin and crashing. Waves of flames.
I am waking up. To authenticity, and therefore to the depth of experience. It is luminously painful and blissfully hopefilled. It is to amaze and of perfection, of shadow and the form. It is the death of the bird and the glorious re-birth.
It is big. It is love.
To the same sun and moon,
and to You
M .A. R